Where There is Love, There is Life
by KJmom
Summary: Harry has always loved Ron...  SLASH Ron/Harry


**A/N: Many, and unending thanks to Lori, who happily joins me in my insanity! Oh, and betas my work, this ficlet included! I hope you enjoy my first-ever (posted) Ron/Harry. I read it a LOT, but this is first time I've ever actually posted any. Much love to all of you!**

"Where there is love, there is life." - Mahatma Gandhi

Harry Potter had loved Ronald Weasley - in one way or another - pretty much since they'd first met. Ron had, quite possibly, been the first kid his age, to show Harry any real kindness. So, at first, Harry had loved him for that. Then, he'd seen that horribly dejected, kicked puppy look on Ron's face, when Malfoy had insulted Ron on the steps of Hogwarts. Honestly, who would have been able to resist wanting to love the poor git, at least a bit.

Then, Ron continued to stand by him, for so many years, and had given Harry a multitude of reasons to keep on loving him. They'd had rows, but they were stronger because of them. They'd faced loss and grief together. They'd fought - and won - a war together. They had, in all seriousness, killed for each other. So, it wasn't a huge shock to Harry when he realized that he didn't just love Ron, he was _in_ love with Ron.

It just seemed natural to hold Ron's hand, to hug Ron, and the other boy never complained. Ron took it all in stride, and reciprocated every gesture. Harry never once thought about his sexuality. He wasn't gay, he wasn't straight, and he wasn't bisexual. He was Ron-oriented, full stop. Sure, he'd dated other people - just as Ron had - but they always ended up with each other. It was just the way they were.

The first time Ron crawled into bed with him, Harry didn't consider how anyone else might react. He simply lifted the covers, and wrapped his arms around his distraught best mate. It was the night after the final battle, and Ron had just lost his brother. Harry felt the loss as well, but knew that his pain couldn't even touch Ron's.

When Ron began to cry - soul shattering sobs, they shook the rickety, old bed that had been set up in Ron's room for Harry - Harry just held on tighter. He rubbed Ron's back, cuddled the larger boy, kissed the top of Ron's head, and told him everything would be alright. Hearing that from anyone else, Ron might have protested, but he always believed in Harry. The fact that he was drowning in grief did not shake Ron's trust in Harry.

The next morning, when Molly cracked the door to let them know breakfast was ready, if she found the sight of them twined together disturbing, she didn't say a word. She stood by the door, face red and streaked with tear stains, as they rose from the bed. When Ron passed by her, she ran a hand tenderly through her youngest son's hair. As Harry passed, she gently grabbed his wrist to hold him back. Once Ron was out of sight, she pulled Harry into a hug, and whispered kindly into his ear. _Thank you._

Why she was thanking him, Harry wasn't quite sure. But, as she pulled back, a soft smile, and a knowing look told him she was thankful that he loved her son. With any other woman, or any other boy, Harry might have been embarrassed. But, it was Molly, and Ron, and Harry was unashamed of his love. He only nodded at her, before following Ron to the kitchen.

That night, when Ron crept into Harry's bed, with a plea to _please, just help me forget._ Harry didn't question that his first instinct wasn't to talk, or offer to get up and play chess, or even to suggest alcohol. He merely found his way into Ron's pants, and wrapped his hand around Ron's flaccid length. It had taken him a few minutes - he wasn't used to doing that for anyone else - but he'd managed to work Ron to full hardness. Harry wanked Ron hard and fast, and rejoiced when Ron moaned his release into Harry's neck. Harry didn't expect anything in return, and wasn't surprised when Ron's first snore tickled his skin. He cleaned them up, and pulled Ron into his arms, for - what he hoped - would be a restful night.

During Fred's funeral, Harry had openly held firmly to Ron's hand. He knew everyone in the family took notice, but no one spoke out against the small comfort. Even Ginny seemed to understand, and as she hugged him, she issued a soft command. _Take care of him._

Later, when they went to bed, Ron didn't even pretend he was going to his own lumpy mattress. They curled up facing one another, and Ron's eyes were dry. Harry could still see a bone deep weariness in the other boy, and knew he would ache for years to come. But, Ron looked - for the first time in days - a bit like Ron.

They didn't speak for a long time, but it was a peaceful silence, and Harry was reluctant to break it. Ron just stared at him, and every once in a while, reached up to touch Harry. His head, his cheek, his arm, his chest, and finally, his hip were all treated to the warmth of Ron's large hand. When Ron's hand didn't retreat from its last resting place, Harry finally spoke.

"I love you, mate."

Ron didn't reply, but shifted enough to free his other arm. Curving it around Harry's neck, he used it to pull Harry towards him. Their first kiss wasn't awkward or amazing. It was a little sloppy, a bit inexperienced, and altogether perfect. Ron's tongue was timid, but grew bolder as Harry opened to allow him entrance. When the need for air became too great, they broke apart, panting heavily. Ron cradled Harry's head gently to his chest, and Harry felt the vibrations of Ron's words.

"I love you too."


End file.
